


One Shore To The Next

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Canon Lesbian Relationship, City of Light, Clexa, Clexa Endgame, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Mystery, Post-Episode: s03e07 Thirteen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ontari ascends the throne Clarke is torn between protecting her people and succumbing to the emptiness left without Lexa. But what if dreams are not just dreams? To save the word, Clarke Griffin will need to journey into the next and discover a shared unknown truth with the help of her friends. [Clexa Endgame] [Jasper & Murphy Redemption] [Raven Happy-Ending] [Post 3.07]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arkadia, Present Day I

 

 

 

She is a ghost amongst the camp, just a speck of sunlight caught in the corners of their eyes. Little more. It had been two weeks, the conclave had chosen the next commander and the blockade would march on Arkadia with new orders, assured were these things.

"Bellamy!" Octavia ran up beside him, bent out of shape. "Have you seen Clarke?" she puffed and Indra is not far behind, searching for Kane.

"Has anyone?" he bit.

"We need to find her, Ontari has ascended the throne. If we don't fix this-"

"Fix what?" he growls, almost snarls. It stops him in his boots, and for a moment he sees the hurt in Octavia's eyes, it halted him, forced him to recover. "Do you see where playing grounder gets you?" he lowered his voice. "We're not like them, Octavia. If Clarke wants to mourn a warlord who left us to die beside a mountain, let her. The only reason we didn't bury her instead a fortnight ago is because of bad aim."

"They will kill us all, Bellamy."

"They can try." his shoulders rose a little higher, "There's nothing Clarke can do now, if she wants to keep hiding, let her."

"Hide from what?" she appeared; gaunt and hollow, there was a smoke to her, a dampness, it exuded from her like the chill off of the morning dew.

They both looked just slightly past her, maybe with shame or embarrassment. She was a husk, her eyes were dark and her skin was pale and she wasn't of use to them anymore. The flame was extinguished.

"Clarke…" Octavia stepped forward, and she's tentative, desperate, trying. "I know you're hurting, but we need you, if we don't stop this war-"

"Let Arkadia burn." she turned on her heel, there was white hot tears in her eyes and her chest was parasitic, consuming itself from the inside out until all that was left and all that there is, is emptiness. "Let them all burn with it."

"You don't mean that." Octavia tried but she didn't turn around, she refused to.

"The Commander died for your so called peace, the least you can do is honor that gift, you undeserving fool!" Indra berated her from further distance, and it was enough to catch the attention of the people doing ordinary, unknown things.

She stopped, her chest chuffed in the way it always had. For a moment it looked like she might turn back, like she might dig down and save the world in that way she always did. But she didn't, and it was a choice. She continued, carried on, dying and shaking.

She found herself back in a dark nook of the bar, away from the world, the bitter taste of the drink consumed her as much as she consumed it and some things were still too painful to think about, so she didn't.

There was a book in front of her, a gift from Lexa, the last one. Drawing paper was a luxury on the ark, she'd only seen a few sheets in her life. Her father had bought her three sheets for Christmas one year, it had cost him a day's work detail. She took a gulp of her drink and remembered the night she told Lexa that story, they had sat on her balcony with drinks much sweeter than the one she now found herself with and they talked of these tiny things and the Commander listened like they were the most important stories in the universe.

The next morning, there was parchment and easels and paints and everything she had never had. There was no Lexa, of course there wasn't, she was supposed to be too indifferent to make such displays.

Clarke decided against her better judgement and opened the bound leather.

_Wanheda,_

_May you find enough inspiration in Polis to keep you here for eternity._

_Yours in peace,_

_Heda_

The writing was a scrawl that she had to squint to make out, though they never talked much of it, Lexa could barely read and write in English. The thought made it all the more bittersweet, imagining her pace backwards and forwards whilst one of her scribes wrote message after message, until she herself came up with this one.

The next page, Lexa lay asleep, peaceful, beautiful, trapped in a moment where Clarke would forever keep her. The drawing wasn't finished and now it never would be. It ached her heart to it's absolute bottom.

"Mind if I join?" Jasper pulled up a chair, and he was already seated before she could tell him otherwise.

"I suppose not."

"They say you're going crazy, is it true?" he looked her in the eye, and there was a hopeful glint.

"Well, if I was... I'm sure I'd be the last to know about it." she conceded, putting the book back in her satchel. "What are you drinking?" she offered, finishing her own glass.

"Nothing I would accept from you. I've just come to see it for myself."

"See what?"

"Justice."

Clarke sat back down, she had earned this reckoning, she knew that. So she sat and prepared herself for the very worst of it.

"Do you even remember Maya?" Jasper's eyes narrowed and his face twisted with the pain. "Do you ever think about her or the other people you murdered when they left us trapped in that mountain?"

"Would it make you feel better if I said yes?" she bit, "Because I don't, I don't think about any of them." she lied, "I did what I had to do but if it makes you feel better, I've realised maybe we're not worth the price of saving."

"Did she suffer?" Jasper leaned a little closer, "Did you hold her whilst she cried, dying, trying to be brave?" his jaw wound tight, and these things wouldn't be enough, but they were a start.

"Yes." Clarke leaned in, eye to eye, ashamed. "She suffered."

"Good." Jasper finally sat back down, "Maybe now I can start to forgive you."

"Maybe."

"It doesn't get better, you know?"

"I came to that conclusion by myself."

They shared a contemplative silence, it was reserved for those who were dying and trying to seem otherwise, there was a commotion in the social. There were people pushing and moving like a wave against one another trying to get closer to the stage Jaha had made for himself from little more than a crate.

"Be at peace, there will be more tomorrow." he soothed the crowd, and the ones who were early enough in line to get the pill helped him in his efforts in that serene and absent way they all seemed to possess.

"You've thought about it, haven't you?" he mused, watching the crowd.

"I have. But it wouldn't bring me peace, only take away the pain and I think there's a difference between the two." she admitted, "Besides, the armies are converging on Arkadia, pretty soon there won't be an us for Jaha to save."

"Noble."

"Not quite." she rose from her chair, yawning, pulling the satchel over her shoulder. The alcohol got the best of her, and all there was left now was to curl up somewhere and ride this out. "Noble would be if I tried to stop it."

"Maybe we're supposed to die, Clarke." he held her stare, "We were up there in space, and the world was doing just fine without us."

"It's all death in the end, either way, someone always has to die."

 

* * *

 

"Don't be afraid." Lexa whispers, and it's for her own benefit, she's trembling and all Clarke can do is tiny things, hold her hand and touch her hair and she feels entirely useless. Black runs like a burst riverbank, it's between the webs of her fingers and the palms of her hands and there is nothing to be done.

"Ai gonplei ste odon." she mouths, and no sound will come, the noise is lost to the tiny necessary gasps and they're all she has left.

"I've just found you, don't leave me." she pleads.

"I'm not, my spirit will live on-"

"I've just found you!" her voice breaks.

"You will find me again." Lexa barely wheezes, and her fingers are numb, she is holding on with everything and it's no longer enough; the last efforts of a pure wild thing.

"In peace may you leave the shore…" she tries, attempts, wavers. Lexa's eyes are reverent and languid and this all that is left that she can do. "...in love may you find the next, safe passage on your travels until our final journey on the ground… may we meet again."

There is a deep exhale, the last, and she is gone.

Clarke awoke with a startle, sweating and gasping, she was used to this. It came for her most nights. She did all she could to shake it off, but her face was still burned into her memory, her vacant and absent eyes. The sound of urgency bled through the walls, footsteps and clattering and whispered voices, it was a symptom of crisis and she would not be drawn in by it.


	2. Arkadia, Present Day II

There had been bangs to her door, she remembered that much. The door didn't put up much of a fight and the light of the service corridor bled into the room and diluted the darkness she hid behind; then, there was darkness again, the kind that wasn't welcomed voluntarily.

Her hands were bound with ziplocks. That was the next thing she noticed, along with the hum of the motor and the gentle bumps of the ground beneath them. Everything was hazy, like a kaleidoscope of senses mashing together into a mandala. She winced and looked around the car as best she could.

"Rise and shine." Murphy smirked through what seemed like a permanently bruised lip, sharpening his blade.

"Murphy?" she side-glanced Octavia who flanked her right. "That was the best you could do… Murphy?"

"Ouch." he rolled his eyes and carried on without much thought.

"You wouldn't come willingly and I didn't exactly have an army of people willing to help." Octavia sighed, she stared out of her window and watched the trees roll by them.

"You're not a prisoner, Clarke." a voice reassured her, "Ontari has requested a meeting with the ambassador… you might be the last hope on the brink of total war." Kane finally leaned over from behind her line of sight, resting his hands on the top of the seat.

"So I'm a bargaining chip?" Clarke eyed him, the soft blues of her eyes rolled into bloodshot pinks and the smell of homemade booze made the hairs in his nose burn and these things were who she was now, the total product of the horrors she had seen and the people she lost along the way.

"Whatever makes this easier for you." Octavia shook her head and finally pulled herself away from the window. "Look at you," her eyes filled with the weight of her disgust and Clarke felt every ounce of it. "I don't know who you are anymore."

"She's the _great_ Wanheda." Jasper looked in the mirror from the steering wheel. "That's why you're all here right? Because they think she's some kind of god..."

"Why are you here?" Clarke sat a little taller and let her curiousness catch the best of herself.

"It's all death in the end right?" Jasper shrugged, "Maybe I just want to roll the dice and see whose turn it is next."

"Noble." Clarke raised her chin in that indignant way, and if she could grit her teeth she would, but somehow the action of winding and tightening her jaw reminds her too much of someone she once knew and so instead she looks at the same trees as Octavia for the rest of the journey.

Minutes passed, and that's all it takes to reach the limits of the blockade. The trees are lined with archers, their fingers on the skin of the bow aching to fire the first shot. Arkadia is a dot in the distance and it makes her feel just a tiny bit better, the guards marched towards them and she recognised their paint and war masks as the ones she once marched alongside at Mount Weather, but these were of the new Commander now and they may as well have been strangers.

"I'm taking these off, I hope you're smart enough not to run." Kane eyed her and cut off the ziplocks. She rubbed her wrists, itched her nose, convinced herself not to rip the gun out of his hands with the expert speed she had been tutored in and flee once again to somewhere she didn't yet know.

"Out." the guard grunted in broken English and pulled Octavia out of the car door first; it's too late for the first plan so she settles on her second and steps out of the hummer willingly.

"Wanheda." a voice whispers from the line and all of their eyes are on her. There's a respect, an acknowledgement of her valour, and it embarrassed her; sickened her even like a foul stain on her soul. She followed Octavia and kept her head low with the weight of the world upon on herself.

"Looks like they recognise you, Griffin." Jasper caught up to her and his feet marched with an angry rhythm that matched his tongue, she wasn't sure how long this game would go on for, the one where they both colluded in the pretense that he was angry with her and not with the world that had lead her to make the decisions she made. But somewhere beyond the stench of her loathing, there was an ounce of herself that she clung onto for just long enough to abide the house rules of his game.

"Careful, remember what happened to the last two people who gave me a nickname."

She bit and walked a little faster towards the tent, overtook Octavia fast enough to double back round her if she wanted too. She was here now, it was best these things were dealt with quickly.

The tent was sat just in the clearing beyond the first line of soldiers, flanked by a body of ice nation elders who congregated together in little groups and talked amongst themselves. The sight of the tent alone and the vibrant reds that flew from its flag post made her knees weak and her chest burn and the tiny ounce of herself melt away until she was left watching herself do these things like a prisoner within her own body.

By the time she'd stepped inside she felt the swish of the curtain fall behind her. "Wanheda only." the guard outside stopped the others from joining her. She was glad. She didn't want history to add this failure to the list of her many others, she forced air into the chambers of herself and it was all she could do not to deflate with each step as she moved further into the centre of the room, past the table she once conquered and towards a throne she had come to know well.

"Wanheda." Ontari looked up from her chair, it was disarming how much and how little she looked like Lexa all at the same time. She was little more than sixteen, for barely a moment Clarke wondered whether this was how Lexa once looked too, freshed faced and inexperienced in the ways of the world.

"Heda." the word was forced off her tongue with a little nod of her head and it had no business belonging to this girl.

There was a silence that felled the room, they were alone.

"Do you know why I have called for this meeting?" she said flatly. She was a bad imitation, her paint wasn't quite expert enough and her juttering foot gave away her slight. Clarke looked every which way, between the ground and the ceiling and the table and the chairs. It was all she could do not to break.

"I know why you haven't..." Clarke glared defiantly and Ontari inched a little closer off of the seat of her throne, she watched herself from the inside out and knew she was on the praecipe of life and death but she continued on, carelessly. "My people seem to think I have a way to convince you not to go to war with us, but I don't, and if I did you wouldn't want to hear it. We butchered an army sent to protect us and you have every right to retaliate, I know you have brought me here to take the power of Wanheda and I've came to you willingly to tell you myself that you're welcome to it."

Ontari blinked and adjusted herself, Clarke was expert in all things disarming and these were things her most trusted advisors warned her of.

"You are as brave and foolish as they told me you were…"

"I'm neither." Clarke stepped a little closer, "They told me what you did… every nightblood was slaughtered until you were the only one left to send to conclave. I'm not stupid, Ontari and neither are you. If you kill me and take the power of Wanheda, you'll legitimise your claim against the clans who call for your throne, besides, my blood will pay for what was spilled ten-fold." her voice trailed off quietly.

"Clarke of the sky people." Ontari rose from her throne and her knife was tight in her fist. "They told me you would at least try and barter for the lives of your people, I'm disappointed." she lied and silently gulped with relief, and Clarke felt the shift in the air.

"The thing is, I'm not who I was and you're not the Heda I once knew." she rose her chin to the ceiling and it was an invitation for her neck, she closed her eyes and she felt the metal pressed hard into her skin; but Ontari kept it there just so.

"I see them all." Ontari swallowed and her hand faltered.

"See what?"

"I see all of the moments you shared." she whispered and her eyes are earnest if only for a moment. "They're scattered around you like dust trapped in a sunbeam."

"Kill me." she pleaded with a deep and wanting stare. There was an honour in this, dying at the hands of the Commander. It was a death the few people left she cared about would be able to live with. There were tears in her eyes, though she would never let them escape and there was a deep burn to her voice and she wanted this above all else.

"No." Ontari yanks the blade back and sheaths it beside her leg. "I am not your enemy, Clarke."

"We are on the brink of war-"

"But that doesn't make you and I enemies to one another!" Ontari sat herself back down on her throne, she was stern eyed, and Clarke saw the conflict within her. "I have spoken with Indra, she does not seek the blood of your innocent, only the blood of your leadership… I don't think her unreasonable."

"I don't either, but I am the highest amongst my people and you know that. Make an example of me, not them."

"I feel the spirit of all the commanders within me, they sense a greater enemy than any we have faced before, you and your hundred will have a part to play."

"If this is the part where you tell me Lexa-"

"It isn't." she holds her stare and Clarke feels her chest give way to a bottomless cavern. "I feel Lexa's spirit, it's true, but it's barely a whisper amongst a sea of screams."

"You're a liar, she isn't alive within you." Clarke shook in a quiet, furious way and her heart stuttered over itself. "She could have- she would have done it. She would have taken the life of Wanheda to save herself and honor her people."

"And yet she didn't." Ontari whispered, and love can't just be enough for these things and she too isn't certain of the other reasons why, but they're ones worth keeping the desperate creature in front of her alive to find out.

The room was felled by the same silence and Clarke felt her body heave and shudder with the weight of it.

"Come back to Polis, your work isn't done, Clarke." Ontari returned to her throne.

"There's nothing left for me to do."

"Wrong." Ontari raised her pointer finger in her direction. Clarke stood a little taller. "There is nothing left for you here, that much is true, but your work has only just begun. You can serve your people and your own interests better in the capital, in return, I will allow your people amnesty until such a time when their debt has been repaid."

"Why would I do this?"

"Because, the girl you are no longer would have done it." Clarke thinks on these words and she knows it's true and these things are already decided. "Select attendants and ride with me back to Polis to finish what you started, Clarke of the Sky People."

She bows her head and leaves the tent and she is still watching these things transpire as a prisoner. Before she can take control again, her boots pound the ground outside towards her group of friends.

"What did she say?" Kane stepped forward first, he touched her arm and she in turn shrugged it right off.

"I'm going back to Polis and in return the peaceful blockade still stands, for now."

"How do we know you'll be safe?"

"We don't." Clarke shrugged, but it figured, she thought. "I have left a few things unfinished in Polis, I have to see them through to the end."

"You can't be serious…" Octavia jumped up from the ground where she sat.

"You're coming with me." Clarke ordered. She turned, afforded a glance at both Murphy and Jasper. "Jasper too. Murphy will get what we need for Polis and join us in a few days." They both sigh but Jasper puts up nowhere near the fight she suspected he would, her glance moves to Kane and he is waiting for his orders too. "You just take care of my mom, okay?"

"Okay." he nods, and he knows better than to try and hug her.

* * *

She was between Murphy, bound and bleeding beside the bed and Titus, armed and righteously furious. But she inexplicably knew the rhythm of these things. The first shot fired out and missed, the second shot shattered the vase just in front of her path as she ducked and weaved as best she could. But she saw the door handle quiver and she knew who was behind it, so she ran faster.

The third shot rang out, and she threw herself at the finish line, just in time for shock and denial to waltz with one another across the plains of Lexa's face. She looked to Titus, glanced at the dirty sky boy tied up beside the bed, but they were both of little importance now. Clarke sank into her arms, smiling, and this was their last dance, the very apex of their symphony.

"No, no, no." Lexa whispered, she held the great Wanheda up like a deer that stumbled on the last chuff of the hunter's blade. "Stupid girl, what have you done?" she wanted to shake her frantically but red dribbled and flew between her fingers from the most essential parts of Clarke. Instead she gave in and fell to her knees with her. "Guards, send for the healers!" she roared at the faces in the doorway, alight, furious, covered in red.

They obliged her, though it was of no use.

"I-I-" she stumbled. The sun was in her eyes. Lexa was beautiful, a monolith, the arches and dips of her face were a carved from the same sheet of marble and she hated herself for not seeing that sooner. "I couldn't watch you die again."

"Sh, you're okay." Lexa forced a smile and a little nod, wanting to laugh at how absurd this was. She couldn't and she wouldn't lose another. Her hands pressed the wound with enough force to keep Clarke here with her for just a little longer. "You're going to be just fine."

"I know how this story plays out, Lexa." she took her hand, squeezed it again and again but Lexa won't look past the red that oozed and taunted her. "I knew right from the beginning, one of us was always going to die." Clarke wheezed.

"Perhaps, but not like this. I refuse it."

"Look at you," Clarke cups her face, shakily, wanting. There's tears in her eyes, they deserved more than this little time. "Why did I never see you before?"

"You see me now." Lexa pulled her into her lap and stroked her hair, bloodied and sticky. "That is enough."

She'd seen a wound like this before when she was a little girl. The Mountain Men had put a bullet in her aunt's chest, much like the one lodged in Clarke's. She had lasted the entire way back to the village, unable to breathe and clinging on to the tiny gasps her body would forfeit. She couldn't remember how long it lasted, how long the healer worked on her before giving up too, but she remembered the wheezing gasps and the dulling of her eyes as they carried her off to the tent. _Bist wanplei_ , a dog's death, that's what the villagers called it.

"I'm scared." Clarke mouthed, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"Don't be." Lexa shook her head and stroked Clarke's hair. "I'm right here."

"Protect my people, p-promise me?" she stumbled and wheezed.

" _Our_ people. I promise." she corrected her and earned a little smile.

"Will you lie and tell my people I died bravely?" her eyes began to fade and Lexa knew it was wrong to force her to stay. She deserved more than bist wanplei. She shook her head at the healers who approached the door, and they backed away dutifully. "...Even if I start crying for my mom?"

"Yes." Lexa felt finality wash over her like an old friend and this was it, the sharp sonata.

"I think I'm ready."

"We will find each other again, there is still much for us to do." Lexa shook and clung tighter to her. "Yo gonplei ste odon, Clarke kom Skaikru." she wiped away her tears and tried to memorise Clarke's lips.

Murphy shuffled over, restrained, desperate. Lexa would stop him, but there's nothing left to be done so she allows him this tiny thing, to look upon Clarke's face in her last earthly moments.

"In peace may you leave the shore.

In love, may you find the next.

Safe passage on your travels, till our final journey to the ground.

May we meet again."

Clarke awoke with a jolt, the car came to a stop just outside the city limits of Polis. She rubbed her eyes and acclimated herself, but it was there again, Lexa telling her about the things left for them to do. There had been no mention of it the last time they were together, but she had come to learn that the attention was in the tiny details.

She felt reinvigorated, repurposed, awoken. It was a tiny thing to be able to save Lexa in her dreams, but it was a bit of relief from the weight of reality that ached the very core of herself. She was grateful, that she decided.

"Wake up, princess." Jasper turned the key out of the ignition and unbuckled his belt.

"Funny you mention it Jasp, I think I'm just starting to..." Clarke shrugged off the seat belt and climbed over Octavia, the guards opened her door and Ontari's envoy stopped before her. Polis was on the horizon, the wind whipped in her hair, and though these things were far from possible. She was here now, maybe it was worth the coin toss.


	3. Polis, Memories I

The rain dripped and spattered against the tower in the way she loved. She loved few things, tiny things, but the first rains of spring were up there. The nourishment to her lands was a thankless blessing and she caught herself occupied with these things as the meeting droned on.

This time, it was a rogue thief caught by the village taking livestock in the dead of night. The village elder pounded his feet across the stone before her, and grew antsy with his hands, it diluted the sound of the frequent light thuds of raindrops and it was all he could do to keep his Heda's interest.

"Two boars you say." Lexa raised her brow at the chained up boy before her. What say you?" she folded her knee over the other knee and feigned interest.

"I am innocent, Heda." he offered forward with pleading eyes.

"Lies!" the elder struck his cheek with the back of his hand and Lexa didn't so much as flinch at the human display of anger. "You will not lie before your commander!" he seethed and the boy cowered.

Titus loomed beside her with a heavy glare, it was the universal signal that there were higher matters to attend.

"Enough," Lexa raised her hand. "We will conclude this later, leave us."

The room piled out and soon, the only person left pounding the stone against the rhythm of the rain was Titus. He took long strides, and Lexa could measure the depth of his fury based on the length of the steps he took. Today, they were just shy of a call for war, tomorrow, perhaps a genocide.

"Heda," he put the weight of his heavy glance on her. "King Roan of Azgeda returns to his lands, the legitimacy of Skaikru's claim as the thirteenth clan could not be on shakier ground. I advised you that Wanheda should be returned to her people before the twelve clans question your acquaintanceship."

She was assured in her pursuits. She would not be doubted or strong armed and it read in the staunch of her posture and the winding of her jaw. "Do the twelve clans answer before me or I before them?" she rose from her throne, powerful, becoming of her title. "Do I answer before you, or you before I?" she took a step towards him.

"Apologies, Heda." he threw his stare to the floor and abided his station. "You are so close to achieving what has been attempted since the dawn of time, the people are almost ready. It is our duty to keep them in line, for their own sakes."

"It is _my_ duty, Titus. I will undertake it as I see fit." she warned him with a glare. He bowed his head once again and she saw the tick and pulse of conflict run through him. "Eternal salvation relies on the back of great leaders' sacrifice, there is much for us to learn from Clarke kom Skaikru."

"There is much for me to learn from you, Commander." Clarke watched the display from the door. Titus was hunched, leaning over Lexa with his words. His face soured and Clarke was suddenly aware of her own intrusion.

"You have no business wandering into the Heda's chamber unannounced!" he seethed and took fast strides towards her, the unilateral measure of his wrath.

"Leave us." Lexa raised her hand, and that was that.

"Heda," Titus bit and nodded his head. He glared at Clarke for one lasting moment, before closing the door behind himself.

"He's a real joy, why do you keep him around?" Clarke smirked and took steps towards Lexa. She was little lighter, a bit bouncier today. It felt obscene to be allowed to look upon her outside of the paradigms of her duties, but Lexa stared on, hungry and dying for more of these little encounters.

"You will do well to watch your tongue, Clarke. Titus is the second highest among my people for a reason."

"What do you need to keep the people in line for, Lexa?" Clarke shot her a look, and the pitter patter of the rain was no longer enough to occupy her against the tide of today. Lexa shifted uncomfortably in her seat and gestured for Clarke to sit beside her, it was accepted and Clarke pulled up a chair.

"Let us talk of other matters—"

"If you're preparing your people for something, I have a right to know, you said my people were your people too." Clarke reminded her.

"You are right," Lexa nodded and stumbled over herself. Clarke was beautiful, and she was drunk in the presence of her. "I'm sorry." she conceded and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. It felt foreign and intrusive, she kicked herself for the display and pulled her fingers back just as quickly as she had cast them out.

"Are you preparing for war?"

"No." Lexa chuckled and it seemed so abstract to her. "I'm preparing to raise my people higher, your people too if I have any leverage over Titus." she huffed with the stress of all of it.

"How so?"

"Must you worry about these things?" Clarke's brow furrowed, it knitted and melded and it was a symptom of her persistence. Lexa obliged her, she always did. "It's prophesied that there is a place beyond farce and false legend that remains untouched by the stains of human history. It's guarded by a single deity and passage is granted only to a chosen few who cross from this plain to the next. But, should the people march as one and achieve peace with one another, they too will be welcomed into the garden." she explained, her knees crossed over one another the same way they folded when she explained these things to the nightbloods. "And so it is the highest duty of the Heda to lead her flock towards the caliphate."

"The City of Light..." Clarke thought out loud.

"The City of Light." Lexa nodded.

"How do you know it's real?"

"How do we know anything is real?" Lexa quirked her brow and Clarke decided to leave the topic alone.

"Thank you, by the way."

"What for?"

"You know, for not killing Roan." Clarke said quietly, and she knew the deed was for her, a gesture of the strength of Lexa's word and oath.

"My quarrel was not with Roan, just with the Ice Queen. I see no reason to kill an innocent man." Lexa nodded and thought for a moment, "When they tell the stories of my legends, they'll say my strength was shown to the people in the lives I spared, not the ones I took."

"History will not be so forgiving when it remembers me." Clarke sighed and shuffled uncomfortably. She sees all of their faces, they haunt her, followed her from stars to mountains and wherever else she tread. History would remember that part.

"Perhaps history will leave a kinder footnote for you at the bottom of my chapter." Lexa tried and Clarke is beautiful, a wild thing in its prime racing against the wind, perhaps there would never be a time for these things. Perhaps there would be. She convinced herself it was of little importance so long as Clarke felt it too, and she decided long ago that the way Clarke's eyes shone just a bit brighter whenever they were near one another or the way her lips quirked into a funny little grin reserved just for her was more than enough.

"Come, Clarke." Lexa stepped on to the balcony, "I will have the best wines from here to the caliphate brought for us to drink in return for another of your stories."

"I don't know if I have many more, Heda." Clarke teased and followed eagerly to the damp balcony. "I never knew what rain felt like until I came to Earth, I think I prefer it to sunshine." she stuck her fingers out and watched the needle-like dribbles pound her palm.

Lexa looked at her and just smiled. "You know, I've never thought much about it myself." she lied.

* * *

The room is bland in the most mind numbing of ways and the sound of the door closing behind him made him jump. Kane sat himself at the table, tentatively, nervous. This meeting would be there last. He saw the handcuffs wrapped around her wrists, they're cumbersome and heavy and it shows in the way her arms hang between her knees as she takes a seat too. It embarrassed him.

"Marcus—" Abby tries and he sees the visceral fear of the consequences finally catching up to her.

"Chancellor Kane." he corrects her, and he's sorry, he feels the regret tick and nip at him and the knowledge wasn't overlooked that out of all of the things they did in the name of survival, this would be the one that would haunt him to his end. "The surgery failed, Thelonius is dead..." he looks down to his boots. "In the process, you wasted nine times the rationed medical supplies trying to save him, Abby."

"I see." she nods, reserved, knowing, dying. "Kane, you don't have to do this—"

"I do." he frowns.

"Well, then." Abby resigned herself to this fate and it's the last shred of dignity she can cling onto. "Let's talk like old friends and put politics aside for these last few moments."

"Whatever you want." he finally looks her in the eye and softly smiled, she's braver than Jake was. It surprised him, he gave her that much credit. "What was the name of that show Clarke liked to watch when she was young?" he says, curiously.

"Mr Roger's Neighbourhood." she wept and the memories choke her, throttle her even, but somehow she catches her breath and kept it together and it was admirable.

"You are my friend you are special, you are my friend, you're special to me…" he hummed and the memories came back thick and they were drunk on them.

"Gosh," Abby laughed. "She sung that all the time, matter of fact she used to sing herself asleep to that song."

"Believe me, I know. I used to have the cabin next to yours before we were elected to the council."

They both chuckle and for a moment the chains aren't heavy and Clarke is still a dot, a baby born to an in-between generation that would hand the torch to the next, but she was alive on the ground and defiant to her birthright, all one-hundred of them were.

"Do you remember when we were teenagers and Thelonius made that homemade hooch?"

"Oh yes." he chuckled, "He hid that thing in the floorboards until the whole deck smelled like a brewery."

"I could really do with a drink right now." Abby scratched her neck and thought back to those days and how much simpler things were.

"Maybe we all could." There's a knock to the door and it's time. "Abby…" his face twists with the shame, and there's nothing he can do to fix these things now. There's no words or speeches, she hauls herself up and walks to the door and she will take the little honour she can get of not being dragged to the airlock Their boots hit the metal hull and with each corner they turn and corridor they walk down he wants to call this whole thing off.

They turned a last corner and the airlock came into sight. The council, her few last friends, stood solemnly waiting but it was Kane who couldn't look ahead, who couldn't rise to the task at hand.

"Ask me for a pardon." he pleads with her and he remembers a time before Jake when they were sweethearts, when they were best friends, and he has no idea how it came to this.

"I won't beg for my life, Marcus." she shakes and Kane wishes she would.

"What about Clarke?" he whispers.

"She is down there," tears stream down her cheeks and the guards remove her handcuffs. "I did my job, we did our job, we sent our children home."

"May we meet again." he whispers and they lead her to the airlock.

The door closes between them and all he can do is press his hand to the glass. "May we meet again." she whispers back, her hand a perfect mirror of Kane's own. He calls it off, he goes to, his legs move and his lips open and the intention is there but the guard hits the lever and she is gone and it's too late for goodbyes.

Kane awoke with a sweat, it was a thick hot sweat that soaked his forehead and wrangled with his shirt. "Jesus christ!" he clutched his brow, grabbing at the bottle of water on his desk.

"Sorry…" John Murphy checked the corridor and closed the door behind him. He took a seat in front of his desk. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, it's fine." he put the water bottle down, "Just a nightmare."

"I know the feeling, you ever feel like your life is one big nightmare?" Murphy eyed him, lifted his boots on to the table and leaned back in his chair.

"Quit with the dramatics." Kane rolled his eyes and sighed, pushing his feet back down. "Can I help you, Mr Murphy?"

"That depends, can you?" Murphy chuckled with the irony. "Pike knows about our meeting with the grounders, he knows Octavia, Jasper and Clarke are missing. he's put the camp under lockdown. If you want me in Polis, I need you to get me out now."

Kane swallowed, this wouldn't bode well and Pike would know his connection in all of this. As assured as these things were, it was a problem for later.

"Well then, Mr Murphy." he rose from the desk, pulling a gun from his draw. "You better follow me."


	4. Polis, Present Day I

The tower wasn't quite right, it too was a poor imitation of how she remembered the weeks she spent there. The rain had given way to glorious sun and a deep warmth clung to the air and it mocked her, infuriated her even. She found herself waiting in the Heda's chamber, Ontari spoke quietly in Trigedasleng to her advisors, they looked at her with long aching glares, filled with disgust, but just as they had abided Lexa, they abided Ontari too. Now it was Clarke's turn to learn how to rise to such things.

"Wanheda," Ontari swiftly turned on her feet, dismissing her advisors. "Thank you for waiting."

"Thank you for hosting us." Clarke nodded with measure and restraint and took these things as permission to sit in her ambassador's chair once more.

"I imagine you think there is an underlying motive to my actions." Ontari sat herself down too.

"Oh, I know there is."

"You know nothing." Ontari leaned in and her voice was an angry dull tone.

"A woman who kills twelve children whilst they sleep doesn't invite someone like me to Polis without a good reason."

"And someone like you doesn't accept such invitation without a motive of your own." her back prickled. "We are one and the same, Clarke."

"You're a murderer, I'm nothing like you." she spat.

"How much blood stains your hands, Clarke? I ensured my seat, that much is true, but it was righteous. I rose to the task no one else was strong enough to do to ensure my people would have a strong leader in their darkest hour of need. You on the other hand, Wanheda, took the lives of many to save the lives of a few."

"Nice." Clarke laughed bitterly, she looked between the ceiling and throne and everywhere that wasn't an extension of this Commander, catching her breath, she blinked away any facet of emotion.

"Enough of these accusations." she sighed and felt a twinge of regret. Clarke shuffled in her chair, tapping her knee, waiting for it. "She loved you very much, Clarke."

"Don't you dare." Clarke shook. "You might have her memories, but you are not her, you never will be—"

"You're right, I'm not Aleksa nor would I want to be. I don't have her memories, Clarke. I just see what she shows me."

"And she's showing you she loved me?" Clarke's brow knitted and furled with confusion.

"No." Ontari whispered, quietly. The memories come to her like instincts, like a smell, there's sweet long drifting scents of Clarke's perfume and short sharp whiffs of good wine. "I see you standing on a balcony, it's raining, there's wine in her cup but she doesn't care much for it." she sighs and recalls what isn't hers. "She's too absorbed, too consumed listening to the way you speak. You're telling her the story of the thirteenth station, how it was blown out of the sky, how it united the other twelve, there was a survivor who made it to the Ark. Just one." Ontari shakes her head and closes her eyes, she was still acclimating to the noise in her head, the neverending mandala of memories that weren't her own. "She loved you, Clarke. Take my word for it." she tried.

"Whatever it is that AI is feeding you… it's wrong." Clarke clenched her jaw. Her back was wound straight, her body felt tight, her fingers twitched and somehow she held onto these little slights. "There were no survivors from the thirteenth station."

"That's not how the vision comes to me."

"If you think you're going to win me over by feeding me a few lines about how much she loved me then I overestimated your capabilities. Please, let's just move on to our business together, Heda."

"As you wish." Ontari conceded and leant further back into her chair.

"You told me there's a war coming, who with?"

"A silent enemy." the Heda tried, she knew these things would not be enough to satiate her, but she would give her the little she had. "She is dangerous Clarke, the one who burnt the world, the great deceiver, she is back and she's building an army within your walls."

"The nuclear war was over a hundred years ago, anyone who made it to the Ark back then is long dead and so are their children—"

"You misunderstand me, Clarke. She never left the Earth, she was dormant… and now she is not."

"How could you possibly know this? I am the only source of information the Grounders have ever had within the walls of Arkadia."

"My spirit senses it." Ontari looked her in the eyes, and they dilated and fixated and weighed her up the same way the last Commander's did and it unnerves her. "A darkness is coming, Clarke and it will use you and everyone you love to find the true Zion."

"You're talking about ALIE, aren't you?" a clarity washed over her. It was short lived. Ontari flew from her chair and her hand was wrapped around Clarke's lips, wild eyed, containing these things.

"We cannot talk freely, Clarke. She is listening." Ontari mouthed.

"Who?" she whispered, confused.

"We don't have time to explain, go back to your friends, try to act normal. If you do value your life, Clarke. Do not speak of our conversation to anyone."

* * *

He was supposed to stick with Octavia, supposed to play detective and tag along on whatever trouble the younger Blake could get them in. Those days were gone. Instead, he chose to right himself. Be a silent force wandering around the walls of the tower looking for something he wasn't sure he'd even recognise as significant. Clarke was with the Commander, Octavia was chasing after Indra, and so he ventured through different empty rooms as little more than a tourist.

This room was different to the others, maybe a temple, maybe a storage closet, there was trinkets everywhere and drawings on the walls.

"Who goes there?" a soft voice called from the shadows, disturbing his self-driven tour of the books on the table.

"No one." Jasper shrugged. He should have left, but his feet dance around on the spot and he's curious. "Maybe I'm lost."

"No one accidentally finds this room." she stepped out of a dark corner where she ministered over what might have been the oldest looking book he'd ever seen, leather bound, gigantic, important looking. Her English was good, her accent was slight and soft unlike the harsh tones the warriors used with one another. She was an educated woman.

"Yeah, well, I'm not from around here." he scratched the stubble on the side of his face.

"Neither am I... none of us are." she breezed past him like these many shades of grey were suddenly and simply black and white. "Like I said, nobody finds this room by accident." she said it again, and this time the light was more forgiving and he caught a better look at her face.

Her skin was caramel, a soft mix of mocha and cream, unlike the other grounders her skin was a unmarred and clean—along with the thick raven curls of her hair.

"Sounds like an important room." Jasper licked his lips nervously, he wasn't altogether sure why these things unnerved him. The tone of her voice and the way she handled the book itself reminded him of someone he once knew, someone long gone.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" her eyebrow raised and she leaned against the table. "Skaikru, no?"

"Yes." he nodded.

"You traveled a long way to accidentally find this room." her shoulders gave way to a soft chuckle.

"Who are you?" Jasper stepped forward, curiously.

"Gonkepa." she tapped the book.

"Librarian, makes sense." he chuckled to himself bitterly. "Of all the things I thought I would find here, a library?" his brows furrowed together and shook his head with disbelief.

"You thought us all savages?" her eyes focused in on him, and he felt a little guilty.

"No." he shook his head. "...Just the ones who left me and my friends to die inside the mountain."

"I'm sorry you hurt." she swallowed and nodded her head. "I see the losses, they're scattered around you, lives snuffed out too soon… you are their keeper."

"I'm no-one's keeper." he eyed her and suddenly felt the intrusive nature of these conversations. She was a stranger, little more, these facts disturbed the rhythm of their little chat and his feet grew antsy to leave. "I'm sorry I bothered you, I should find my friends."

"Like I said, no one finds this room by accident, Jasper kom skaikru. When you find what you're looking for, come back and see me." she smiled, and it was sad long thing that weighed heavy on her eyes. "I really am sorry for your pain."

Jasper shrugged it off and made headway to the door. It hit him, suddenly, a shiver crawled through him and he felt an anger grasp and tighten the muscles in his neck.

"How do you know my name?" he turned around as he stepped back into the corridor. She was gone, the book too. There was no back exit that he could see and light from the corridor diluted the dark corners of the room and left her with nowhere to hide. He doubted himself, felt his mind stumble over itself looking for an explanation.

"Jasper!" Murphy called to him from the far end of the corridor. He was carrying less than expected, a rucksack here and a few little bags there. He was dirty and tired, though that wasn't anything new. "Where are the others?" he walked towards him.

"Beats me." he answered hollowly.

"We should find Clarke; Pike knows were here in Polis. He's probably already got Kane, A few days and he'll be marching on the blockade to declare war."

"Am I supposed to care?" Jasper narrowed his eyes, grabbing a water canteen from Murphy's hip to drink thirstily. "I'm here as a spectator man, nothing more."

"Look, I'm not the hero type, I leave that shit for you and Bellamy Blake to handle. Moping around and being bitter is kind of my deal, you know?" he adjusted the bags on his shoulder. "Why don't we all just stick to what we're good at?"

"Murphy, you made it." Clarke appeared on the stairwell, she was flanked by guards, the fact that they answered to her and didn't lead her by chains meant that the meeting had gone better than anticipated.

"Barely." he bit, handing off some of the luggage to Jasper who took it unwillingly. "Pike knows we're missing, he's going to march on the blockade, Clarke. He thinks we're traitors."

"We are." Jasper glanced between them both like these things were simply black and white. "We left our people, our friends, back in that camp." he reasoned, and it was all true.

"Where is Octavia?" Clarke felt the stress wind her up.

"Here." Indra marched up the stairs from below with Octavia close on her heel. "There is much for us to do."

"It can wait." Clarke ordered, following the rest of the stairs onto the floor where everyone she had left now stood. "Tomorrow morning at breakfast we all need to slip away, quietly, and meet by the sign we past on our way into the city."

"I do not take orders from Skaikru pigs." Indra gnashed, her fingers tightening around the knurls of her staff.

"Pike knows we're here, that means he knows Kane is involved in this. Marcus has been good to you, you owe him your help." she stepped up.

"I owe that traitor nothing!" Indra barked and her voice carried.

"Fine! If not for Kane, then do it for your people! There is a war brewing, Indra. Bigger than Skaikru, bigger than the Mountain Men, the deceiver returns and is building an army." she gritted her teeth and talked in hushed tones.

"You are the only deceiver my people should fear." she shook and Clarke watched expertly for an attempt with the wooden staff. "I will have no part in this." she hissed with the last of her restraint, and with that she was gone, limping down the stairs with all the strength she had left.

"Do you think you can convince her?" Clarke glanced at Octavia. The youngest Blake watched the warrior walk away and every ounce of her wanted to follow. But she didn't. She stayed and she didn't know why but it had to count for something.

"She's not coming, Clarke. The best you can do is hope she doesn't tell anyone what you're planning."

"Then that'll have to be enough, as for the rest of you, are you in?" One by one, they all offered little nods. "Good," she nodded too. "That's good."

* * *

The bullets put down their front ranks and the battle is already lost before it's started. She runs, weaving in and out of her soldiers, shouting orders and calling for cover.

"Kill them all!" she demands and the betrayal is hot in her veins.

With each march, each step to the eastern most entrance of the camp, she sees the overwhelming loss around her and she's never seen a massacre like this. She glanced to her left, it was a mistake, she watched her warriors drag the youngest of their clan's seconds to safety. They were bloody and there was no hope for them, their short fight wasted on these ungrateful deceivers. Before she could shout commands, the warriors are put down too and their blood all puddles together and thickens the consistency of the wet mud beneath them and that is all they are good for now.

A flash of braids run pasts her, furious and ready, she's brandishing the weapon of the enemy and lets off careless shots towards the camp. Indra is faster, she disarms her, kicks her in the mud until they can lock eyes and Octavia is trembling.

"Why are your people doing this?" Indra seethes. Her blade pressed into her neck. She itches for this, her spirit begs for it, but she hesitates before she draws the final cut.

"They are not my people anymore." Octavia heaves, "I am your second, I am **Trikru**."

Her answer stalls Indra, forces her to pause. The girl had made her decision, chosen her alliance and now they would both stand behind it. "Then you will die like Trikru." Indra rises from the ground, tossing the gun to the floor and offers her a hand from the ground.

They fight on for pointless minutes, that's all it takes for only a tiny last few of them to be left standing. Octavia ran just a few steps in front and a stray bullet put her down, it cut through her, dropped her like a hunted animal.

"Octavia!" Indra yells and feels a sharp burn and then a heavy wetness on her shoulder. The same bullet tore through her too, caught her good arm and rendered it maim. She fell to her knees with the pain, but somehow she kept moving, she crawled and inched and dragged herself through the dirt towards her second.

"Indra, are you hit?" Octavia shouted from the ground, gasping for air. She was on her back, in a worse state than the older warrior and beyond the sharp pain in her shoulder, all Indra feels is the guilt of it all.

"You should have watched your centre, stupid girl." Indra shook her head, crawling to where Octavia lay. "Why didn't you watch your centre?" she frantically assessed the damage, pulled and ripped at her shirt, watched as the river fork opened at Octavia's gut and poured down her sides.

Octavia's eyes were soft and vacant, she stared at the sky, the clouds were beautiful. They were peaceful. It was astounding how different the sky could be; up there it was a sphere of pure blue and little more, from down here, it was fractals of blue and purple and pink and endless oranges. Maybe she was like the sky, maybe she could be entirely different too.

"I'm dying." Octavia blinked and whispered, she rolled her head and looked her warrior in the eyes. "This is it, isn't it?"

"You are not worthy enough to die on this battlefield." Indra snapped, pushing her hands down on the wound. "The healers will be here soon, a few stitches, that's all you need."

"Indra…" Octavia blinked and gasped.

"Hush now." Indra looked to the trees and blinked away her tears. The fire in her gut was put down and all that was left was a great smoke that billowed high within her, a dampness, an ache in her chest that consumed her from the inside out. She did her best to hide these things, hands pressed to Octavia's gut, in control of the uncontrollable.

"Thank you." Octavia mouthed, and there's red dribbling from the corner of her lip. "Up there—In the sky, I was no one. You made me someone important."

"You will not die, I will not allow it." Indra gritted her teeth and she hates herself for feeling this unimportant girl's death above that of her brothers in arms. But she does, and she's past denying it. "You elevated yourself, I was just here to guide it."

"You are the only person who's ever believed in me, you know?" her eyes water and she's clinging on for nothing.

"You were so much like her." Indra shakes her head in disbelief of it all. She would die here too, she decided these things, so she let down her guard just enough for the little humanity she had left to shine through.

"Her?"

"Someone special to me." Indra offered a little nod, and she feels the loss of her daughter fresh once again after all these years. "Foolish, brave girls." she swallowed and stroked her hair.

"Trust Clarke, she is the only one you can trust now." Octavia's breath hitches and the air can't quite catch up to the demands of her body and she's scared, it's palpable, she is in the hands of the spirit now.

"Go in peace, brave warrior." Indra nods and grasps her hand. "Yo gonplei ste odon, Octavia kom Trikru."

It's Bellamy who finds them. Octavia is on her back, eyes open and long gone, Indra is slumped next to her barely breathing herself. He falls to his knees and the sound that pours from his chest stirs her, like a wounded stag, a trapped bear. It's barely an iota of what they deserve but Indra takes pleasure in it; the last gift of Octavia Blake.

"She suffered, your bullet made sure of that." Indra eyed him, even in her last moments this was all warfare and she would reign supreme.

She sees it within him, the part of his soul that stretches and rips in two and she knows her death won't be as clean as Octavia's but she is a warrior above all else so she will suffer these things gladly.

"Did she say anything before she died?" Bellamy wept and pulled his little sister into his arms, she's limp and cold and these things will haunt him above all else.

"Yes." Indra nods, heaves, struggles for her breath. "And I will never tell you a single word of it." she raises her chin.

Indra awoke with a sweat, her shoulder burned from the bullet fragment still trapped in her nerve as it did most nights. She was shaky on her legs, but fresh air was a necessity so she stepped out of her door. It was barely dawn, but she was alive and Octavia was alive and these little things along with the fresh air were enough for now.

"Adonis..." she shook her head at the sky and hoped a sign of her presence would befall her. "Foolish, brave girl." she bit at her daughter's spirit and leant her weight on the wall with her good arm. Her and Octavia were alive, but there were some wounds that would never heal.


	5. Polis, Present Day II

The treeline hid them from sight. Clarke was the first there, she slipped out between guard rotation and hiked the entire trek back to the Polis sign where they had left the hummer. Murphy was second, then Octavia and finally Jasper. They were careful, quiet, hiding from an unknown enemy.

"Are we all accounted for?" Clarke leaned into the circle, looking over her shoulder and beyond the horizon to make sure they hadn't been followed.

"Now we are." Ontari doubled back around them from the foliage beyond the sparse trees. Indra was beside her and it was Octavia who groaned first.

"Heda." Clarke kept her stare and refused her share of the shame.

"Is this all of them?" Ontari turned to Indra. The warrior nodded, her fingers curled tight around the spear that doubled as a cane. "Good." Ontari nodded too.

"We can explain—"

"There is no need." Ontari cut Clarke off. "I expected as much." she said quietly, maybe disapprovingly, either way it read as disappointment. The absence of her guards became apparent to Clarke, along with the absence of her warpaint and the Commander's pauldron. Seconds rolled into seconds and it became clearer it was the two of them alone, perhaps these plans weren't thwarted, she dared to think. "I was hoping you would be smart enough to call a meeting amongst your consorts outside of the city. I couldn't be seen to make such arrangements, questions would be asked and the last thing we need right now is the talk of the people."

"Wait. You know about this?" Octavia crossed her arms and nearly glared at Indra, she stopped herself just in time, she knew better. Instead she kept her arms there and left the next word to her.

"Of course I knew about this, you reckless fools." she rolled her eyes. "I advised the Heda against telling you the truth of the situation." she moved her stare to Clarke. "I warned her you couldn't be trusted to show the decorum needed. We followed you the entire way here. Be glad it was us and not the Deceiver's minions." she said with strong words, eyeing them all with a disapproval that weighed heaviest on Octavia who should have known better.

"The Deceiver's minions?" Jasper said with confusion. "What's going on?"

"Idiots." Indra shook her head and turned to her Heda. "All of them."

"The one you call ALIE." Ontari ignored Indra's complaints. "She is the one who set fire to the world before the rise of the first Commander. We believe she is building an army within your walls to march towards the true Zion."

"Jaha's imaginary friend?" Jasper stared at Clarke in disbelief.

"Bingo." Clarke raised her finger.

"I assure you, she is very real." Indra growled.

"Okay, here's what we know about ALIE so far..." Clarke finally raised her voice and drew the attention of the group. "She appears to those who take the cerebral inhibitor from Jaha, she promises them peace and immortality, what else?"

"This is ridiculous." Jasper picked his bag off of the floor. "I came here for a good time and you guys are really killing my vibe. I mean, evil AI? Seriously?" he looked around at there faces and moved to walk away. "Give me a break." he muttered.

"The Grounders are right. I've seen her." Murphy swallowed and grabbed Jasper's shoulder, pulled him back, kept him just here. "I was trapped in a bunker, it belonged to the idiots who made her, they recorded these videos and I watched them every day for two months." he stuttered over the recollection. "She's an AI they designed to make life better, but computers don't have morals, she got into the defense systems and launched the nuclear missiles."

"Why would she do that?" Octavia caught her jaw with her hand.

"Too many people." Murphy swallowed, "Scour the Earth and start again from scratch."

"Why would she want to march on the true 'Zion' if she's already got the Earth?" Jasper entertained this for a mere moment, dropping his bag once again.

"It was the spirit of the first Commander who created the true Zion; all those who seek it are delivered in death. The Deceiver knows this, she wants to rule supreme." Ontari promised and she knows these things because the spirit of the first Commander lives within her veins, whispers these truths to her.

"What do any of us have to do with this?" Octavia chipped in again, confused.

"What do you know of the name, Wanheda?" Ontari posed the question, her posture straightening.

"—Oh of course this would have something to do with Clarke." Octavia interrupted with a sigh and earned a deep glare from Indra.

"It's the Heda's duty to lead her charges to the promised land," Ontari continued on, she straightened her posture and the mere act reminded Clarke of someone she once knew. "But it was said that the first Heda told her most trusted advisors of a second Commander. In life, this Commander would lead a lost clan back to the true Zion during the last trials and ensure the Heda's duties were fulfilled. In death, she would rule supreme and lead the worthy of the eternal lost wanderers back to the light."

"The Commander of Death?" Clarke earned a nod from Ontari. "You think I'm the second Commander?"

"The boot fits." Indra stood taller, clutching her spear.

"The boot fits." Ontari swallowed.

"In case you didn't notice, I failed. The Heda's duties are unfulfilled because she is dead." Clarke leaned in and shook, far from over these things.

"Lexa is dead, but the Heda lives on." Indra tries, but Clarke is blind to their ways and she will hear none of it.

"If all of this is true, why would Titus try to kill me? Surely he would have known about this?" Clarke grasps at straws, her arms wrapped tighter around herself and the actions kept her chest from cracking wide open.

"The guy was insane." Murphy rolled his eyes, and he has the puckered scars littered over his chest and back to prove it. "What if he wanted Lexa to have all the glory? Maybe he thought Lexa could defeat ALIE without the contingency plan?"

"Where do we go from here?" Clarke draws the conversation back and shakes her head. "What's the plan?"

"That, Wanheda, is for you to decide." Ontari explained. "There was a conversation you and Lexa had the day you parted, about the tattoo she received on her ascension day, do you remember it?"

"No." Clarke lied and shook her head. She would not share these moments, not with any of them. They were of the few things reserved just for herself and her Heda in the moments when neither of them were leaders and she would not give them up.

"—Perhaps if you learn more about the eighth novitiate from her conclave, you will discover what you need." Ontari colluded with her pretense, knowing the weight and emotion of these things.

Clarke had learned it wasn't worth questioning how it was Ontari knew what she knew, it was a parlour trick she was long past. It made her miss Lexa even more, made her ache and burn for her reserved and restrained Commander who would never rub such gifts in her face. She couldn't think on these things for long, there was a static that broke the air. A garbled sound that cut through the din of their meeting.

"Hello, do you copy?" Murphy lifted the radio to his mouth and turned the dials, honing in on the signal. "Hello?" he repeated again.

"Clarke? Is Clarke there?" Kane whispered and the signal was barely there.

"I'm here." Clarke took the radio and suddenly they were all ears. "What do you need?"

"Thank god!" there was a relieved laugh and she heard her mother too. "We don't have much time, Clarke. Things are bad here."

"What's your situation?"

"Pike is out of control, he's ordering for our executions. Bellamy— he's trying to get us out but we'll never make it to the blockade line on foot before they notice we're gone." she hears the sinking reality in Kane's voice and it shakes her.

"The blockade will be lifted for the safe passage of your family, let that be known." Ontari makes it clear and Clarke offers genuine, gratuity filled eyes.

"I'll send the hummer back, we can drive you past the blockade line before they can get on the ground."

"No use." Abby finally speaks up, "Pike has snipers watching the blockade twenty-four seven; if they see the hummer coming towards the camp they'll open fire on the blockade."

"We can send an envoy." Indra speaks up and she doesn't know why she's offering to help but she is. "We ride at the dead of night from the southern line of the blockade. If Bellamy can get you out of the side fence, our men in the east can cause a small distraction and we can ride over the southern cliff ridges back to Polis. They won't be able to follow us."

"That just might work." Kane agreed. "We need to go Clarke, someone is coming." he hurried in hushed tones and the sound of a barricaded door giving up was audible.

"The dead of night tomorrow." Indra takes the lead of these things. "Tell Bellamy to wait for the signal."

"Understood." the static sound went dead and these things were assured.

"I am going with you." Clarke is already set on the idea. "Octavia, you too."

"Clarke—" Ontari begins.

"You wanted a plan, here it is. I'm going to save my people with Indra and Octavia. All I ask is that you give Jasper and Murphy safety."

Ontari backs down, accepts these things for what they are. Her and Clarke don't know one another well, but she feels the turn in the other commanders, she is their counterpart. The lost puzzle piece. So she abides.

"They will be safe." Ontari nods.

"We can make it to Arkadia by sunset tomorrow if we ride now." Indra took a few steps with her cane and this was now or never. "Octavia, ready the horses." she ordered her second and Octavia obliged her.

"May we meet again, Wanheda." Ontari offered her an arm. Clarke was tentative, unsure, but none the less she grasped at it and felt Ontari grasp at hers. "This is the start of the road to awe… remember that." she offered a low whisper.

* * *

 

Murphy had lied there like a heaving trapped beast on his side, he'd crawled and inched his way closer towards his friend but that in itself was too little and too late. Lexa was doubled over, her fists wound tight in Clarke's jacket and she shook as if she could force the life back into her with effort alone.

He whispered the traveler's prayer, went through the motions, blinked and swallowed and waited to wake from this nightmare. It was a nightmare, he knew that. Like an apparition, a ghost that was there and not there all at the same time, Lexa took her in her arms and carried her out the room; shaking to the core of herself, swallowing the burn in her throat and soon all that was left to show they'd ever been there at all were the thick pools of venous red that stained the tiles beneath him.

Suddenly, unaware of the passage of time, he was on the outskirts of Polis. A bag was pulled off of his head and the bright rays of the sun made him wince. The boot of a guard kicked him forward on to his knees. He stood and gritted his teeth, marched back on himself, off onto the dirt path that lead into the forest. He was a messenger, spared by the Heda to send word to Arkadia of Clarke's death.

Murphy marched for hours, he wasn't sure of the route but he knew the general direction back to his people. There was an opening, a section of stream that ran south through the valley and it was a thankless blessing.

"John Murphy…" a voice carried through the thickets behind him.

He turned, water sloshing down his chin as he drank hungrily from the stream. She was there, beautiful and alight, grinning from ear to ear. "I knew I would find you again!"

"Emori—" There is no time, the distance is closed between them and they are both hungry. She tastes of dirt and blood, iron danced between their tongues and his cheeks widened into a smile, he stood there and grinned right into her, laughing and then reality caught back up to him and his grind folded back into a frown. "Someone I know, someone I knew—" he stutters quietly. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry." she frowned too, clutching his arms. "I'm here now, John. We can run away together?"

He looks to the sky and back to the water and catches his breath through flared nostrils. In this moment, he hates Clarke. He was never fond of her, that much was true, but even in death she had a way of ruining the few good things he had going.

"You know, as much as I would love too—" he sighed.

"What you've got better plans?" she raised her brow and he loved this woman.

"She never did much for me but I have to tell my people Clarke's gone. It's the right thing to do."

"Then I'll come with you." They're at each other once again and she fits in his arms in just the right way, although she has to stand on her tippy-toes to reach his shoulders and push the hair out of his face. "You need a bath, John." she smirks and so does he.

The sound of the arrow whizzed past him and Emori's eyes grew wider and her heart bloomed like a flower in spring, blood seeped and widened over her shirt. Her lips pulled and formed as she touched the arrow that stuck out of her unnaturally, there were shapeless vowels, mainly from the shock. John grabbed her, lowered her to the floor and shielded her with the entirety of himself but she was already gone and there would be no goodbyes, not for them.

"Take the girl away." a voice made orders. "Take the boy to the dried spring." Large dirty hands pulled him to his feet and he knew better than to drag this out any longer than it needed to be. They dragged him a short distance to a dry riverbed that once fed the stream. He was silent, shaking with the anger that took hold of him.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, John Murphy." Titus stepped into his line of site with a deep pensive frown, hands clutched behind his back.

"You didn't have to kill her." he shook his head and wept. "The Commander sent me back to my people, you could have left us be, we would have never came back here!" he gritted his teeth.

"I have made mistakes, but this is not one of them, this is a rectification." Titus sighed, indulging this boy past what was necessary. "The Commander has done all she has done to stop war with your people but if they discover Wanheda is dead, it will radicalize what is left of the noble. I see that now."

"You see that now?" Murphy wept. "How many people are you going to murder today in the name of your fake god?" he strained against the grip of the soldiers who held him, but it was of little use.

Titus hung his head in shame, it lolled and fell victim to gravity. "I should never—" he braced himself, felt the weight of his mistakes. "I was wrong to harm Clarke and I will pay for my crimes but I see why the Heda worked towards peace with your people. It is necessary for the greater plan. I am sorry, John Murphy, but I cannot allow your message to start a war."

"Screw you." Murphy spat at him and knew it was for all he represented too. The draw of the knife was quick and he didn't suffer, there was an irony in that. His knees hit the floor of the spring bed and it was done.

Murphy awoke with opened eyes and stared at the ceiling, it was barely dawn. Clarke and Octavia would be over half way back to Arkadia by now and that was all he thought much of, he'd lived through worse than any nightmare his mind could conjure and so he didn't spare these things any headway. Emori was somewhere out there and when all this was done he would find her again, and that's all he entertained.


	6. The Ark, Memories I

Even with the artificial breeze of the cooling vent licking her skin; the sweat that clung to her was unbearable. It ached and tore at her, got right under her bones and made a home besides the dry cough in her lungs. Sometimes, the inner panels of the porthole window in her office were enough if she pressed her cheek right up against it. Today wasn't one of those days.

None the less, the vent hissed and she stayed close by its mouth. One of the small pleasures that came with her new position, she thought. It had been four years since the bombs fell, four years since they found themselves in the hostile vastness of space. It was the joy found in small things, much like this air vent, that kept them human.

"Chancellor Parker?" Sachin's voice interrupted her ministrations from the door and she was met with a look she'd seen before. The chief medical officer stepped inside and skirted around the need for words, it was a little performance she imagined he'd perfected and put on for all the people he delivered this same bad news to. She was the Chancellor, the first of many who would undertake their shared Exodus mission. She was above these sentiments.

"Sachin," she gestured for him to sit down. "The last time you called me Chancellor Parker was at the inauguration." she forced a smile, colluded with the pretense that these things that still remained unsaid did not hold any baring over them.

"Kathy… I'm sorry." he let out a sad sigh and it was time for bad news.

"Don't be." Kathy swallowed the need for tears, above these displays. She shook her head and looked out of the tiny window and touched the bump that protruded from her stomach instinctively.

She was six months and counting, thirty-four years old and the closest to the finish line in a race no other woman in four years had won. The weight of her pregnancy was felt amongst the people of the Ark; the very first child who would be born to the twelve stations. This was inevitable, the entirety of the medical bay warned her of that much. Her body's ability to filter out radioactive matter from the endless void outside of the airlocks was barely enough for her own survival, let alone to carry a child to term.

She thought briefly on the women who came before. Meiling Xiao, she was the first case; senior engineer aboard the Shenzhen station and the first to fall pregnant. The nausea and vomiting were beyond anything that could be correlated to the pregnancy, by the second month the blood heaved and sloshed from her lungs with each cough and the hair fell away from her head in clumps, that was when the council ordered for her containment to monitor the effects of pregnancy under space conditions.

It took her less than a week to die, though she didn't die well. The baby was more space than it was human, little more than a teratoma.

Maria Barbosa, a payload specialist from Mecca Station, she was the second. She made it to two months before her body's filtration gave out, the decision was made to keep her alive to monitor the extent of radiation poisoning, by the time the skin began to slough away from her muscle and her cries grew into hoarse whispers the council called for a unanimous end to the experiment.

Captain Zuzana Magunda-Okelu, Operative Jane Miller, Biology Officer Idra Collins, they all followed. Kathy remembered every single one of them.

"Are you sure this isn't just a cold or something?" Kathy crossed her knees and held herself up with a last chuff of dignity. "Ever since I was a kid, whenever there was a cold going round, I'd burn up just like this—"

"The blood works came back positive, your filtration system can't handle the radiation." Sachin frowned and rested his hand over hers. It made her cringe. "You were a seasoned mission commander before the war, your body was adaptive to the conditions of space but it's giving up under the pregnancy and you should too if you want to survive."

She's pensive, she knows she has to be, she's the Chancellor and there has to be a restraint to her. "Ready the recovered samples from Polaris." she says quietly but her presence is bold, daring.

"Kathy…"

"Chancellor Parker." she reminded him and stood from her desk. "We have had salvaged resources sat in our labs for two years that can increase the population's radiation metabolism. It could be the answer to us ensuring the Exodus Charter stands and the human race will one day return to the Earth."

"Science takes time, Chancellor. We don't know what else is in that concoction. Besides, we haven't replicated it yet… there's only one batch." he leaned over the desk and they met somewhere in the middle. "If you take it and by some miracle it is the key to the cure, you'll be condemning every other woman on this ship unable to bear children."

"Becca was my step-sister!" Kathy hissed. "Whatever she was doing on Polaris before it was destroyed would have been to fix this… she would have seen all of this coming."

"You don't know that!" Sachin shook his head and these conversations wear thinner and thinner on him each time they discuss the the resources found in the Polaris wreckage.

"I had two nobel prize winning sisters on Polaris the day your people blew up their station, it's up to me to make sure we put the last of their genius to good use." Kathy moved for the door. "Have the sample ready in an hour for vaccination."

"What about everyone else, Kathy? Does nobody else deserve the chance to have a baby?" he storms after her through the service corridor.

"I have the highest radiation metabolism of anyone aboard the Ark, I have the best chance of it working. Plus, if it works, you can use my blood as the base to replicate the filtrate booster." she flashes him a grin and this is why she is the Chancellor. Ingenuity and finesse. "If it doesn't work and I die like the others, you'll get to run for the Chancellorship again. Maybe you'll win this time."

"Oh I know I will." he grunted and crossed his arms, making his way to the medical bay to prepare the vaccination.

* * *

Lexa grabbed her in that necessary and visceral way. Her hands were rough and calloused, exactly how Clarke remembered them on the nights she missed her the most. Her hair was soft and loose strands tickled the dip of her neck as the warlord writhed above her, fingers deep into her shoulders. It reminded Clarke of the trip they took to Tondc, the dead were gone and the living are hungry but somehow Lexa was neither and here she was, starving like a wolf.

Beneath the accoutrements of her station, without her warpaint or pauldron, Lexa was beautiful and ethereal and feminine. The curves of her body were endless, her head lolled to one side and her neck arched with it and Clarke was on the edge of herself just watching.

There was an apex, a point at which they reached a summit and Lexa rolled off with a little laugh and a gasp. Clarke followed her, sprawled on top of the commander with her nose pressed into the side of her jaw, none of this was real and she knew as much, but for now Lexa was here and it was a fleeting gift.

"I think tomorrow we should ride to the clans in the west, you should see the rest of our lands." Lexa hummed, holding her closer. "There is a place very special to me there too."

"Why is it special?" Clarke glanced up from her shoulder.

"It has the most beautiful views and I thought you might want to draw them, I wanted to take you as a surprise, for your birthday." her voice tightened. It held back more, restrained and persevered and gave nothing else up willingly. Clarke abided these things and laid back down on Lexa's shoulder.

"Let's just enjoy tonight." Clarke whispered and clung to her a little tighter as if she might fade away, the thought crosses her mind, she feels silly because of course she'll fade away. She always does.

"You seem sad?" Lexa stroked her hair.

Clarke scrunched her eyes and sighed. "I thought it would hurt less, you know, seeing you the way you used to be but it just reminds me that I can't have you." she whispered and didn't know why she said such things, Lexa was dead and the thing in her bed was nothing more than a collection of her memories stitched together.

"This is a dream." Lexa rubbed her head with the realisation and the disappointment was evident. "How could I have forgotten." she said quietly, deflated.

"How could you remember, you've been gone for a month."

Lexa's eyebrows furrowed and she sat up a little further amongst the fur. "Clarke… it's been two years." she insisted and like a chip in a glass that she'd only just noticed, Clarke saw the faint passage of time in Lexa's face; there was a fresh scar by her brow, a tiny nicked pucker that wasn't there before. There were pre-lines in the corners of her eyes and they were symptoms of mortality.

"You died a month ago." Clarke held her ground and the very fibers of their reality began to shake, sound grew further away and the dream began to fracture on itself and there's no more time.

"I will find you, again." Lexa's lips collided and gnashed against hers. Tears dripped from her cheeks onto Lexa's chin and these seconds were all they had left.

She jumped up from the ground, startled and dripping wet, the water sloshed from her face and hands and head. She caught her breath, shook off the thick droplets and ran her hands over sodden hair. The low rumble of laughter tittered amongst the Trikru warriors who formed Indra's envoy, though it stopped as soon as Wanheda began to look around.

"What the—" Clarke eyed Octavia who shrugged her shoulders and dropped the empty bucket.

"Indra's orders." she turned on her heel and sat back down by the fire beside her warrior.

"What the hell, Indra?"

"You were having a nightmare." the warrior barely offered her the courtesy of eye contact, too consumed by her duty to stoke the flames.

"You couldn't have just tapped me on the shoulder?" Clarke huffed, sitting down by the fire to dry off and wring out her hair.

"Where would be the pleasure in that?" Indra's voice was a low growl and she rolled her eyes. "Let us focus back on our task, we have three hours before the diversion in the east… we must be ready."

"Believe me, when it comes to my people, I'm always ready." Clarke flashed her a glare and wiped a droplet from her brow.

"There's the fighting spirit I knew you had in you." Octavia offered a brief little smile. "Let's go save our people."

"Yeah," Clarke agreed but her mind was preoccupied with the last of Lexa's words. "Let's save our people."


	7. Arkadia, Present Day III

The beacons on the watch-tower within Arkadia's perimeter fence were all that broke the velvety blanket of night. The bright lights swept into the distance and guards stood armed and ready for a fight. They moved silently, Indra, Clarke and Octavia, inching their way closer towards the camp fence.

With atomic timing, the fastest riders from Indra's envoy rode from the eastern line of the blockade. They cut across the fields, weaving in and out of sparse birch trees with torches that drew Arkadia's attention. The first bullets were fired, but the riders were quicker.

"Good job." Kane and Abby appeared at the side fence, crouching. They hid behind boxes and salvage and Bellamy caught up behind them, huffing and nervous. The alarms of the camp began to drone and the radio attached to Bellamy's uniform began to din.

"The power should be down by now... the electric fence is still on." he said with confusion, he eyed them all before staring back at the flood lights above the fence that still remained powered and the dull weight of reality laid heavy upon all of them.

"We have to do something!" Abby gritted her teeth.

"Inside the terminal there is a back-up resistance conductor, tear it out and the high current will short the fence." Raven stepped out of the shadows and moved towards the terminal box.

"What is the girl doing here?" Indra growled.

"She must have followed us—" Kane shook his head.

"She is a minion of the Deceiver... she will not be welcomed into Polis."

"Enough!" Abby gnashed at Indra, "Now that she's seen us all, we put her and ourselves in danger if we leave her here for Pike to question." Raven continued to tinker with the wires, unconcerned by these truths.

"Then seal her lips before they can talk to your new leader." Indra drew her knife. "She is _infected_."

"Indra, we can fix this, trust us?" Abby tried and the alarms droned on and footsteps ran in every direction little more than a few metres behind them, growing warmer and closer to the true threat within the walls.

"Either she stays in Arkadia or you all do." Indra stood a little taller and readied her horn. They knew better than to push further. Indra was true to her word, one blow of the retreat horn and the entire envoy would disperse and ride to Polis without them.

"Indra!" Clarke finally took control. "I am Wanheda-"

"You are a false prophet!"

"Do you defy your Heda?!" her shoulders rose a little higher and the fog lights above the fence finally dim out along with the electricity. Indra's eyes were wild, furious things. "The Heda told you I am the second commander…" there was a swagger to Clarke, a glint in her eye and she knew chances were Indra wouldn't suffer this display willingly but it was worth a shot. "I _order_ you to let Raven pass."

Kane and Abby made it through the hole in the fence first, it was a wonder Indra let them, her fist shook with rage and the spear in her hand trembled with it.

"I hope the Heda is right about you, otherwise you will kill us all." Indra conceded quietly and gritted her teeth, marching towards the hidden envoy in the tree line. The air felt devoid where she once stood and it was a symptom of her power. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, though this was no where near the end. "Blindfold her." Indra demanded, turning back on herself. "She will ride into Polis as a prisoner for the Heda." she sneered.

"Just once, can anything go to plan?" Clarke turned to her people, taking no mirth in this little victory. "Seriously, just one time."

"She can't seriously expect us to do that—" Abby scoffed, helping Raven and Bellamy through the hole in the fence.

"She does and she can." Clarke sighed and grabbed Raven's shoulder, scrambling towards the tree line and away from the camp as her friend limped alongside her. "I don't know if you can hear me but it's going to be okay, Raven. We'll fix you." she hurriedly attempted to reassure her.

"Are you crazy?" Raven shoved her, "What is there to fix?"

"Well I can't be the only one who wasn't expecting that." Octavia murmured, stalking behind the group as she herded them towards the envoy.

"I'm not in pain anymore, I'm _happy_ , that doesn't make me crazy." Raven huffed, limping fast and staying low amongst the grass.

"So… you're still you?" Octavia caught up to them.

"Of course," she shrugged and grabbed Octavia's shoulder for leverage against the weight of her bum leg. "ALIE is here to make life better for us all, even the grounders."

"Just once." Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed. She stalked ahead, past Bellamy, past her mother, right up to Indra's front ranks. The alarms to the camp dulled into a silence and it meant the hummers would venture into the lands to search for their missing numbers, there was little time to reach the southern ridges and they were all painfully aware of the fact.

They marched on, maybe a mile or two through the thickets and over the wet sinking dirt that clung to their feet until they reached the rest of the envoy.

"The girl," Indra turned and pointed, eyed her curiously though she'd never admit to such a thing. "Have her bound. She is a prisoner of war."

"The grounders are at war with us?" Raven looked around, confused. It was ALIE speaking just as much as it was her, away from the servers that sustained her she was little more than a flickering shadow but she was there. She was always there, always watching.

"Stupid girl." Indra chuffed and sneered with the last of her patience, "We are at war with your master, the all-seeing deceiver, victory begins today." she turns and shouts to her soldiers and the group feel the wave and thump of their shared excitement. A burlap sack is placed over Raven's head and she doesn't fight it, there's no need, there's no fear or pain in the City of Light and so she allows them to do what they will with her vessel.

"I've never seen Grounders excited before." Abby leaned in, whispering to Kane as they watched over these transgressions. Abby is close enough to hear Raven's pulse, maybe its her own, but she won't let anything happen to the girl and above all else she intrusts herself with that much.

"They must be getting ready for a pretty big war." he gulped nervously, felt his fingers work in a rhythm with uncertainty, but he righted himself. Stood a little taller. Let the rise of his chin tell a different story. "Looks like we're getting ready for a pretty big war too.

* * *

Ontari is meticulous, her blades are anointed by fate and this is a righteous necessity that she is due. She whispers a little prayer for her, a tiny thing, that Lexa may understand her gratuity for this sacrifice, for the benefit of their shared people.

She crept into the Heda's private quarters like a shadow, she is faster and smarter and stronger and the Ice Nation ambassadors had reassured her of all of these things. There is a melancholy and heaviness that clings to the very dust particles and it's choking, but she won't let it distract her.

Lexa had been absent from court for little more than a day since Wanheda's death but these weaknesses couldn't be overlooked by the ambassadors anymore. The gods had presented this opportunity for one of their own to ascend the throne to the coalition and it was ripe for the taking. So these things were decided.

The guards to her bedroom were absent and Ontari knew it was taken care of by the King's handsomely deep pockets. She would not bend to his will and put the Ice ahead of the other eleven when she became Heda, these things she knew for certain. She would be noble, strong, a great leader. But those were little more than whens and the predicament of the current Heda was a now.

"Enter." a knowing voice called from the other panel of the door, disturbing her wayward thoughts. Ontari obliged, she was certain these plans had been foiled and the entirety of the Polis guard would wait behind the Heda's doors to arrest her. But, she was wrong.

Lexa sat hunched over her throne and there were no candles to blur the harsh edges of darkness. There is a silence so palpable it stills the nodes of her heartbeat. The left atrium pulls the blood in and the left ventricle pumps it into the lungs through the pulmonary artery, and this process has slowed down by maybe less than a fraction of a millisecond since Clarke took her last breath, but she feels herself begin to exist outside the confines of time. A ghost that is here and entirely not here and it's beyond explaining.

"So, you're the one they sent to finish me." Lexa wanted to laugh at the irony of it. But she didn't.

"It would seem so, Heda." Ontari nodded and didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Ah," she swallowed and ran her fingers over the arm of her throne. "They think I am weak?"

"They know you are wounded." Ontari unsheathed her blade with little sympathy.

"There is little more to do with a wounded, bleeding stag than to put it out of its misery." she gruffly sighed and stood from the throne. "It seems fitting."

"You aren't going to fight?" Ontari's brows furrowed with a deep confusion.

"I've been fighting for a very long time… My fight has set alight the funeral pyres of all those I have ever cared for." Lexa's voice burned but she carried on with what few things were left, did up the buttons of her coat and walked a little closer. "Perhaps what the throne needs is a fresh set of hands." she nodded and hid the slights of herself well, though Ontari saw them, the deep dark circles that framed the greens of her eyes and the slump of her shoulders.

"This is a trick." Ontari's back stiffened and her knuckles curled tighter around the knurls of her blade. "The Heda fights until the very end."

"Perhaps this is the end." Lexa stared her dead in the eye.

"What made the girl so special?" Ontari clutched her blade tighter and asked without little more reason than a need to know these secrets.

"That brave, foolish girl." Lexa shook her head, she couldn't help herself, because what a girl she was. "She fell from the sky in a metal box and fought the whole world." her lips quirked into a smile and her eyes held back the bloom of thick tears. It burned and ached, but she was true to her breeding and didn't falter in her usurper's company. Instead, she stepped forward and drove her chin higher into the air and waited for fate to lay her kiss upon her throat.

"I see them all." Ontari frowned and came into this realisation, "All the memories, they're scattered around you like dust trapped in the sun."

Lexa clenched her eyes and swallowed, this was a symptom of their shared nightblood, an effect of their high-breeding. It caught her off guard. "Tell me," she lowered her stare. "Do we look happy?" she inched closer, dirty, tear stained and nearly begging for that much.

"Both of you owe nothing more to your people now." Ontari nods, and though she doesn't remember what isn't hers she feels it ache and pulse around Lexa's dull heartbeat, she will get used to this, she decided quickly. Seeing the lives of all past commanders.

"Are you ready?" Lexa locks her eyes.

"Are you?"

Ontari stepped forward, blade in hand, victory nearly in her grasp. The wind blew the curtains away from the balcony and the rain came down in thick angry needle-like droplets that roused Lexa's best memories of Clarke. It took only a second for Ontari to catch a glimpse of the Fleimkepa's dark cassock move with the wind and the distraction was all Lexa needed. True to her breeding, Lexa threw the dagger from her hip and lodged it deep in her usurper's chest.

Ontari was still and barely breathing, she coughed and should have known better, the blood sloughed from torn sinew and vessels and poured into her lungs, she felt it. The room was dark and so was the ceiling, a vast empty canvas of darkness. It didn't frighten her.

"She could have killed you, Heda." Titus tried in that angry, tempered way, he stepped inside, putting his instruments away.

"I have allowed you your life so that you may train a second to take your post, Fleimkepa. Do not confuse my generosity with a need for your council." Lexa dismissed him cooly.

"Why gamble your life, Aleksa?" Titus persists, unable to help himself.

"I had to give her every chance to choose a different path, to turn back around from her decision, it's what Clarke would have wanted." Lexa swallowed and dropped to one knee beside Ontari's struggling frame. "I didn't want to have to do this." she whispered low, clutching the girl's shoulder.

"I would have made a great commander." Ontari locked her stare and held it there just so. "The greatest heda." she gasped and her eyes began to roll.

"You still can choose to be." Lexa pulled her knife from the girl's sternum and replaced it with her palm. "But you owe nothing more to your people now."

"Comm—" she tried and failed. "Commander."

"Hush now," Lexa watched the blood froth angrily at the corners of her mouth. "If you find her, redeem yourself and guide her home." Ontari's eyes closed and she couldn't fight it any longer. "Yu gonplei ste odon." Lexa swept the hair out of her face.

Ontari woke up with a cool sweat that licked at her naked back, a draft swept through her bedroom and dawn broke over the mountain. She bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted salt and iron, these dreams came for her from time to time but she had no idea why the spirit of the Commander showed her these works of fiction.

She would take heed, she always did. Though she wouldn't try to go back to sleep. Wanheda would be back before noon with her rescued people and there was much to do. Always a great many things.


	8. Polis, Present Day III

The sun bit at their shoulders through the gaps and holes the ceiling of the forest allowed. The procession of warriors trickled dutifully through the veins and vessels of the trails back towards Polis and now seemed as good a time as any to talk to Indra about the things that really mattered. Clarke righted herself, huffed a deep breath and crept up beside her.

"Indra…"

"No." the warrior sighed and dug her heels in the horse's side a little harder.

"How do you know what I'm going to say?" Clarke caught up and her persistence is everything, her success and downfall, the rest of her people know as much. Nonetheless, saying it out loud is too much work for Indra to shoulder and so she lets it go and keeps her horse's steady pace unyielding.

"I don't. I just don't care to hear it."

"I need to know something… about Lexa."

Clarke tried and skirted and attempted to draw her interest in these matters. It worked, she knew that much from the tiny lick of pity that crossed Indra's marred eyes. It was hard to bare. It took everything to swallow it, like a stone lived in her windpipe and saying her name out loud somehow made the little room she had left to breathe contract and ebb away.

"...Who was the eighth novitiate at her conclave." Clarke asked, finally able to breathe once more.

"I don't know—"

"Indra!" Clarke's voice wobbled and she was desperate. " _Please_."

"I don't know, I am not involved in matters of ascension, if Aleksa told anyone about her conclave it certainly wasn't me." the warrior's voice lowered and she pulled the reigns to a halt. "Ask me what she was like as a child. How eager she was to learn. Ask me stories. Ask me things I can answer, Clarke. Otherwise you waste both our time."

Lexa was a person. That fact struck her and she felt an odd guilt for forgetting that she once was a child, for not wondering what her favourite colour was or whether she was good to her mother and everything in between her first fight to her last. She was suddenly hungry for it all. It ached.

"What kind of kid was she?" Clarke shielded her eyes from the sun and caught the smile that inched into Indra's cheeks. She tugged at the reigns once more and they trotted onwards towards the citadel.

"Unruly, but very smart." Indra chuckled and hid it away into the other direction. She finally turned back around once she steadied her demeanor and Clarke was there waiting for more at the side of her. "When she was small, before she was sent to train in Polis, she was very close to two girls in the village. The three of them were thick as thieves. Lexa was just a child, she didn't understand the ways of our people…" Indra's mouth curled into an uncertain frown, "One of the girls, Rowen, had a deformity of the leg. It was a curved, mangled thing. Her mother had done well to hide it from our elders for as long as she did, but once it was discovered, there was nothing to do but cast her out for nature to reclaim."

"Your people left a child to die?" Clarke's eyes narrowed into disgust and the indignant tides of herself rose up against the breakers and swept past the blues of her eyes and left a froth in the back of her tongue.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Clarke reluctantly conceded, there were worse things she'd heard and worser things she had done and the tiny relief that came with hearing and learning new things about Lexa was worth letting it go. "Sorry. Please, continue."

"The girls would sneak into the woods at night, leave food, water and clothes for Rowen. They'd deny it, sometimes. Aleksa would always stay quiet, she'd take lash after lash to the palm of her hand and never say a word. But more than a few times Adonis would finally come clean after the eggs were counted." she chuckled.

"Adonis?"

"My—" Indra stopped herself and swallowed. "Her other friend." she explained away. "So, off they would sneak into the woods to play. Eggs shoved up their sleeves and extra furs lining their coats. More than a few times I followed them and watched them rough around together but for the life of me, I never saw them leave food for the girl with my own two eyes. After a while I would go back to camp and this continued every day, maybe for a week or more. Then I realised, the entire time I had been stalking the girls, the girls had been stalking me."

"How so?"

"There is a type of bird that lives near our village, _sounawk_ , when it sees a predator on the forest floor it sings to warn the others. They would listen for the bird's song. Once it stopped, they would know I had returned to the village and wasn't following them anymore."

Clarke saw it in her mind's eye, Lexa's green eyes and wild hair, her thin little legs, her keen ears outsmarting the highest warrior in the village. She burst out laughing, it rocked her and swayed her like an oak tree in a storm. Small bursts of laughter followed like little ripples and Indra joined in too. Though it no doubt pained her. Eventually, the laughter subsided, she wiped away little non-existent tears and walked tall once more.

"She was a smart girl." Clarke nodded, full of pride.

"The smartest." Indra smiled, though she was talking of someone else entirely. "Lexa was loyal. For years after she took command there were rumours she would ride out past the clans in the west to visit an old friend she never spoke much of to anyone else. I often think it was Rowen."

"If she talked to her friends maybe she told one of them about the conclave?"

"Perhaps." Indra nodded, "Searching for her would be of no use, no one has seen the girl or her family in many years… that's if they're still alive."

"What about Adonis? If she was loyal to her friends maybe she kept in touch with her too?"

Indra felt her heart grip tighter, a similar sized stone in her own windpipe caught her breath and she held on to her reigns, blinked, swallowed, and these tiny things were all she was capable of for the few seconds it took to reclaim herself and put to bed the ghosts that rose from their slumber.

"Adonis is dead." she swallowed and left it there.

"Did she have any family? Maybe they know something." Clarke trod on and Polis came into view, though neither cared much for the sight.

"They know nothing of the conclave." Indra said with a cool certainty and she would not be strong-armed into explaining these things.

"Maybe if I could just talk to her parents—"

"Hear me, girl!" Indra finally snapped. "Adonis is dead, leave it be."

The journey was silent and they were left to attend to their thoughts. The soft shrill of the birds overhead attempted to challenge the quiet but for the most part, other than the horses hooves marching across the ground, they were alone in their task. Ten minutes or an entire day past, Clarke couldn't be sure of which but just beyond the sign that marked the city entrance, the commander stood patiently with her men.

"Heda! We bring a prisoner... a servant of the Deceiver." Indra climbed off her own horse and took the reigns of the gelding Raven sat hogtied too, blindfolded to boot. The horse took soft gentle thumping steps towards the commander and in turn the iron of her back straightened degree by degree at the presentation.

"You bring her to our capital?!" Ontari leaned in and hissed loud enough for Clarke to hear as she herself made the short distance between the fronts of the envoy and the end of Ontari's patience.

"Wanheda insisted."

"Then Wanheda is a fool!" Ontari roared and it was visceral, her fingers quivered at the side of her and her eyes were great dark angry things. "Wanheda, what say you?" her head whipped to Clarke.

"Raven Reyes is my friend. She got herself caught up in the rescue mission and we had no choice to bring her with us for her safety and for ours."

"The girl _was_ your friend." Ontari strode forward and turned the gelding back around by the reigns. "She chose her alliances, now you must choose yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I won't have you risk everything my people have… the girl is either executed by your hand or mine."

"Are you crazy—"

"You dare bring the enemy to my gate and ask for shelter?" the heda caught Clarke's lapels with her grip and they were nose to nose. Clarke took short measured breaths, stayed still and waited for these things to pass. "She is dangerous."

"Indra." Clarke stared the commander's general in the eye. "You were there when my people changed the reapers back into men?"

"I was."

"What if I told you I could destroy the link between ALIE and her followers." Clarke turned her eyes back to the warlord. "What if, I could give you information on your biggest enemy from the people who have been inside her walls? Would that be enough for you to let Raven pass safely?"

Ontari shot her advisors a look. Her jaw clenched and her eyes burned with an untempered heat. Clarke proved herself to be the reigning champion, the expert in all things disarming just as her advisors warned her she would be.

"You can't be considering this parley—"

"Did she change the reapers back into men?" Ontari shot Indra a glance. It was returned with a short, uncertain nod. "Good." she nodded too. "That's good. It would seem she is qualified for the job."

Clarke let a sharp exhale leave her with relief and before she knew it she was grasping Ontari's wrist. "Thank you." she let loose half a smile. Their eyes met and this was too personal, too friendly, she retracted her hand and the commander's eye didn't know where to look.

"I am very sorry for what happens now." Ontari mouthed quietly. A certain guilt weighed on her shoulders and her vestments felt too tight and for reasons she couldn't explain, she looked away. "Arrest the boy." she ordered her guard.

"Wait, what?" Clarke whipped around to watch the guards snake down the trail to the back ranks where her people waited. "What's going on?" she snapped.

"Did you really think the massacre would go unanswered?" Indra's chin rose. "The boy executed every living soul left on that field. _Jus drein jus daun_." she hissed and the venom in her voice was palpable.

Bellamy was brought forward, dragged, though he didn't put up a fight. Dirt and sweat clung to his skin and clothes like a weary traveller and Clarke felt it too. They were all weary of their travels.

"No, no, no." she said and felt the same gravelly feeling in her gut that had plagued her since their journey to the ground.

"Don't fight this." Bellamy threw her heavy eyes as he was hauled off.

There were moments she got away from Finn, moments she hid from Lexa. There were days when Mount Weather failed to cast so much as a shadow. But she reached out for him, tried to catch a sleeve of his uniform or maybe his shoulder, just something to cling on to for dear life until the anchor settled. Her eyes met his and that was all she had and the world came down in a giant thunder. Finn was dead, Lexa was dead, so many people were dead because of her and now Bellamy would join them too.

" _Jus no drein jus daun._ " Ontari postured herself and caught the brunt of Indra's worked up jaw. "He will have a fair trial. I will see to that." she lowered her voice but knew all the same these tiny things weren't enough. Clarke worked herself into a state, she was still and pensive and weighing these things up but her frantic eyes searching for the rest of her people revealed her slight.

"Bellamy!" Abby shouted and the sinewed weight of the guards arms stopped her making headway to where he was taken. "You will release him, immediately!" she seethed, all eyes and teeth.

"Are you blind to the sins of your own?" Ontari stepped forward and her voice was nothing more than a curious tone. "I have agreed safe harbor for the girl with Wanheda," she pointed to Raven who remained blindfolded and kept out of earshot of these sensitive talks. "The one you call Bellamy helped massacre an army sent to protect you all. I cannot allow his crimes to go unanswered."

"We will try him ourselves." she postured and Kane pulled her back. He understood this, it had to be this way.

"Your people were the ones who ordered him to do it!" Ontari spat, patience wearing thin.

"Octavia…" Kane turned to the second and closed his eyes, she stood somewhere near the back of the small group that had formed. She stared at her boots, steadied her breath, kept herself just there.

"What?" she looked up. Instinctively, she moved to Indra's side. It was a statement. A demonstration of her alliances. "He murdered innocent people. I'm not defending him and none of you should either." she wanted to falter but she couldn't, not this time.

"The boy will be given a **fair** trial." Ontari reiterated and turned on her heel. "Come," she ordered. "We are ready for your arrival. I expect Wanheda has much she wishes to discuss."

"You're damn right I do." Clarke hissed in her ear, walking ahead to the capital. It was all futile, Ontari wouldn't budge when it came to the matter of Bellamy Blake and Clarke knew she had no right to barter for her friend's freedom given his crime. He knew as much too. It read in the resignated slump of his shoulders as the guard marched him to Polis ahead of the envoy.

* * *

The sun was barely up and the day had begun. Bellamy patrolled the further corners of the land, he shouldn't be there alone and he knows it but it gives him time to think about the things he swore blind he didn't think about.

He had buried Octavia beneath a sycamore tree besides a river she loved to splash in, along a trail they liked to walk when they first came to the ground. He didn't, but it was the story he told people when they asked. The truth was she hated sycamore trees and she couldn't swim. After her training with the grounders she walked him through the forest floor and pointed out all her favourites and their special uses, the ones good for firewood and the ones good for fruit, all the trees she didn't like too and the sycamore was at the top of that list. Inefficient, she told him. Too big and cumbersome. It sapped the water and nutrients away from the spurting babies.

The truth of it wasn't poetic. It was just the very last of what he could do for his sister in this world. He lifted her high over his shoulder and marched the journey to the clearing that the morning dew could never quite reach and took flames to what was left of her. The grounder way. There were bits of her left, the bedtime stories he told her when she was small, the little games they played as children, he swallowed vomit and told himself it was enough. It wasn't. The idea that he was the sycamore and she was the spurting baby clung to him and whispered sweet nothings in the early hours of each night and there was nothing to escape it.

He was at a personal best of thirty-seven days without Octavia when Trikru scouts ambushed him on his morning patrol. There were nine of them and one of him and even if he wanted to fight back, which he didn't, he only had seven bullets in his pistol.

"So, boys." he stood a little taller and straightened his cap. "Which one of you has the best aim—"

His sentence was cut short. In the most dramatic of undramatic fashions his knees hit the muddy puddle beneath him and the deed was done.

Bellamy jolted up and pulled against the chains that bound his wrists. He blinked, swallowed, caught himself just in time. Shapeless vowels rolled off his tongue as he tried to form words, there was no windows in the cell but he guessed it was early morning from the sound of activity in the rooms above the jail.

"Morning loverboy." Raven opened her eyes and uncrossed her legs from where she sat meditating. "Sweet dreams?"

"Not exactly. What are you doing down here?" Bellamy winced and laid back down on his board.

"Safekeeping. Some genius figured out ALIE could pinpoint our location just from the way the sunshine falls on the mountains unless they keep me in here." she paused and a grin worked into her cheeks. "What a gal right? Pinpoint location from the way _sunshine_ falls." she bit her lip.

"Sounds like a real catch." Bellamy rolled his eyes.

"Call her my first love." Raven chuckled.

"I don't know about that, you were pretty keen on Finn from what I remember."

"Finn?" Raven looked up and her lip quirked. "Whose Finn?"


	9. The Ark, Memories II

The Ark was alive and humming with possibility. The storage bay in Farm Station was fashioned into a creche and the wall that separated the medical bay from the reload office was demolished to create more room for the nursery. The sounds of the first babies born was a crescendo, a symphony that radiated through all twelve stations and gave the people hope that their mission might just succeed.

The time had come for the yearly mandatory medical check of all Ark citizens, though the line wasn't too long, maybe in years to come the population would grow and these things would change. Kathy day dreamed about it and held her own miracle baby to her hip, a shy and quiet little girl a little younger than six years old. She was beautiful, blonde ringlet hair and blue eyes that reminded her of the lake by her grandparents farm. 

On her worst days, Kathy felt the weight of her failure above all else, to be so utterly devoid of what was necessary to be a good mother that she would birth a child and condemn her to this life, little more than a placeholder for a far off generation that would get to return home. But, on her best days, when the occasional meteor shower rode the darkness above them in all it's blinding glory, there was still a profound beauty to be felt in this life and maybe that alone was enough.

"Chancellor Parker," Sachin looked up from his clipboard with a pleasant little smile and ushered her inside his office. "You're early."

"We have the council convening their committee earlier than expected, I thought you could collect your blood samples now whilst Rebecca gets her check up." she sat down and unleashed the little girl who ran to play with a lone teddy bear that lay haphazardly across the waiting room table.

"I don't know why you're so nervous." Sachin sighed and pulled on his latex gloves, unsheathing the gauge needle from it's plastic cap. "Yes, granted, we don't understand the molecular compound of the serum but it worked. Your blood acted as a fantastic base to model the filtrate booster for the rest of the population." he grinned, burying the needle into her forearm to take a blood sample for the millionth time.

"And nobody else has had any of the side effects?" she whispered and there was an air of fear to her and as palpable as it was, Sachin drew the blood and pretended to not see these things.

"No." he shook his head, "No observable patterns of psychosis."

"Sachin," she sighed and worked her thumb and finger over the bridge of her nose. "The visions are real and I think, I think there was something special in Becca's serum that allows me to interact with her."

"Becca is dead, Kathy." he said with a sudden sharp tone and grabbed her knee, tossing the blood sample to one side. "You've got to let it go."

"She isn't dead." Kathy couldn't help but desperately chuckle at the absurdity of what she was saying. "Don't ask me how I know it, but  _ I know _ she made it back to Earth. She left the serum on purpose so that we would have a way to boost the population's radiation filtrate system enough to return home. She is down there, waiting for us to come and help her rebuild everything."

"Kathy, listen to me." Sachin lowered his voice and clutched her knee tighter, he was hunched over, chewing the side of his mouth. "None of it is real, Becca died ten years ago. I know because I was there when we blew Polaris out of the sky. All of this is psychosis, Kathy, and if the council find out about it—"

"I know." Kathy stopped him and glanced at her daughter who played with the soft worn teddy bear and paid little attention to the severity of the matters at hand. "I know." she softened and clutched his hand.

"Are you still dreaming… things." he coughed and tempered his voice.

"Yes." Kathy nodded her head. "I have this one dream nearly every night now... we're back on Earth and everyone from the Ark is there, during the day we rebuild and help grow the soil and during the night we go to this… place."

"The caliphate?" Sachin rose a brow.

"The caliphate." she nodded. "Think less religious iconography and more external hard drive, we'll all be backed up to it, a digital world where every ounce of human history has been preserved and archived. When our bodies die, our minds will still live on and we will be able to pass the flame to the next generation so the world can be rebuilt. Doctors, engineers, scientists, they'll be able to help the human race continue."

"You know it's just a dream, don't you, Kathy?" he sat back and asked quietly enough that the ticks of the ship seemed louder for it.

"Sure." Kathy nodded and laughed. "It's just a dream."

* * *

The sound of Clarke and Ontari arguing echoed through the Polis tower deep into the veins of the building. Kane was restless and could do nothing other than listen to it. Somehow, most likely from exhaustion, Abby slept peacefully beside him and that alone was all that kept him in the bed. Eventually, that too wasn't enough and his feet found the floor and did their best to dodge the loose boards with the long aching groans that threatened to give him away.

He made it out of the room and ventured down the corridor, deep into the lungs of the building, he walked and stared at the moon that followed him through vents made of corrugated iron until he came to a room, door half open and candle flickering vicariously.

"Hello?" he whispered, stepping inside.

"Hello?" a soft voice called back and a woman stepped out of the shadows, young and beautiful with golden caramel skin and gentle dark curled hair. She was clutching a book under her arm, dragging the hem of her dress with her as she walked and Kane felt entirely voyeuristic for being here.

"I'm—I." he paused and felt his cheek grow a little redder with embarrassment, "I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'll be leaving." he smiled.

"What's the rush?" she quirked her brow and set down the book, taking her seat beneath the little glow of light the candles afforded them.

"I suppose there isn't a rush, I just didn't mean to bother you."

"Nonsense. I rarely get visitors, it's never a bother." she smiled kindly.

"I guess you are tucked away down here." Kane leaned against the wall and looked around the shelves lined with books. "I suppose you never get bored with so much to read though."

"The stories never end." she sighed and her smile faltered if only for a second, she glanced at the ground and back at him, watching and waiting for something Kane didn't feel privvy too. "Nobody finds this room by accident, Marcus of the Sky People."

"How did you know my name?" he stepped closer, curiously.

"I've been expecting you for some time." she stood from her chair and moved to collect the book from the table, flipping through it's pages for a chapter she seemed to have lost. "You are in a state of unrest, you sense greater forces at work, don't you?" she took back her chair with her finger between the pages of her book.

"I'm just a stranger. I'm sorry I interrupted your evening." Kane stood up and felt a need to leave, an absolute urgency.

"Please don't leave." she whispered and it halted him. "Whether you realise it or not, you sought me out, Marcus Kane. I only want to help you." she produced something metal from her pocket, it was sleek and round and she passed it off to him. "Here," she curled his fingers around it.

"How did you get this?" he asked, examining the bracelet. It was a vitals monitor from the Ark, from the same batch attached to the delinquents when they came to earth.

"Clarke will know what to do with it. It will help bring her closer to her true goal." she softly smiled once more, "Please know that I only wish to help you all, truly. When you're ready to know more, Chancellor Kane, find me."

"I'm not the—"

"Get out." Indra's voice echoed around the room and she stood tall in the door frame, no armour, just her shirt and worn trousers with a knife clutched in her hand. "Leave, Marcus." she stared him down quietly.

He paused and knew this wasn't his fight. "Goodnight." Kane glanced between them and forced a curt little hesitant nod before leaving back the way he came. He was careful to put the bracelet in his pocket before Indra could see it, tucked away from sight.

"Hello, Indra."

"Stop." Indra pointed the blade at her and stepped carefully into the room with the door closed behind them. "Why do you taunt us so, gonkepa?" she narrowed her eyes and her footsteps grew more hesitant. The very fibres of herself shook like a carefully woven tapestry that threatened to come undone on the mere pull of a single strand of herself. "If only the Heda knew—"

"Lexa didn't just know, she was the one who entrusted me with the books. Please, Indra, I only want to help." the gonkepa's voice was gentle and trying like waves of calmness that washed over the room. It was one of her talents, Indra had watched her do it even when she was small; calm wild creatures and heal their broken anything's until finally setting them free. She should have seen this coming, she should have and she didn't and the knowledge of the fact ate at her insides.

Indra grabbed the book from out of her hands and the girl didn't try to stop her. It was heavy and she felt drawn to it, right down to the very page, though she resisted all temptation and moved for the small fire that was stoked within the chimney.

"Indra—" the girl called after her with a sad sigh. "Please don't make this any harder."

With an absolute abandon, Indra tossed the book into the fire and backed away from the chimney. She shook her head and wiped her brow, steadying herself as she moved for the door without a single word afforded for the gonkepa.

"I could take you to see her right now." the girl rose from her chair and her eyes were deep pools of chocolate brown. "You don't belong here, Indra. Adonis is waiting for your forgiveness." she pleaded and tried to reach out for her hand.

"Go to Hell, Costia." Indra turned on her feet and left the room.

  
  



End file.
